


9 P.M And You Are Something Like A Sin

by moodyme



Series: Hours [17]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Joseph Kavinsky is His Own Warning, M/M, Pre-Canon, Street Racing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-06-25 04:47:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19738606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodyme/pseuds/moodyme
Summary: Ronan was watching the way the street light reflected against the very illegally tinted window of Kavinsky's stupid car. It kept his eyes away from the other boy.





	9 P.M And You Are Something Like A Sin

**Author's Note:**

> For laymindo over on tumblr who wondered if I would be writing Rovinsky for this series, because they like it, I'm going to.  
> Rovinsky isn't a ship I personally ship, but I'll be darned if I won't enable someone elses shipping.
> 
> Set pre-canon, about a year before the start of the Raven Boys.  
> 

Summer, for Ronan Lynch, was awful for a myriad of reasons. He felt most comfortable, most like himself, in the dark and during the summers in Henrietta, the sun wouldn't dip beneath the mountains until too late in the day for his own peace of mind. His pale Irish complexion didn't do too well in the harsh heat of summer, leaving him embarrassingly lobster-like. The most damning fault of summer, however, was that the Gansey seniors could call their only son back for posh posturing and platatuding and philanthroping and politicizing on more than just the occasional weekend.

And so, he found himself in the worst season of the year, alone and bored and angry and tired and too awake.

When the sun finally decided to set, Ronan rolled out of bed, stalked out his door, and purposely avoided looking at the empty space where Gansey should have been as he left Monmouth behind him. He drove, without a destination in mind. Just for the sake of driving. For the few moments of mindlessness it offered.

It had just turned 9 p.m when he pulled up to a stop light. Across the intersection, a white piece of fucking shit Mitsubishi came screeching to a halt, it's bumper in the cross lane. The two cars sat like that for several moments before the driver of the Mitsubishi seemed to notice his presence and chose to run the red light and pull up beside him.

The passenger window rolling down revealed the smug face of Joseph Kavinsky, who motioned for Ronan to roll down his own window. With a sigh and a curse, he did.

"What's up?" Kavinsky sneered. Ronan's light turned green, and he considered leaving this conversation behind. He didn't, choosing to just give in.

"The fuck do you want, Kavinsky?" Ronan asked, glancing back at the other boy and absently noting the dark circles forming under his eyes, and the hollowness of his cheeks that hadn't been so pronounced before the summer break.

"The fucking world, bitch," Kavinsky laughed, and it was almost grating, almost sickening, but not quite. "How fast does that piece of shit go?"

The question didn't surprise Ronan for a number of reasons. He knew the kind of shit Kavinsky and his little cohort got up to. Knew the rumors. Knew the sound of their tires against the pavement. It was something Gansey frowned on, something Declan would sneer at. Something Noah would find funny and something Adam thought beneath him.

"Fast enough to destroy your fucking clown car," He spat, and felt a feral grin spread across his face in answer to the manic expression Kavinsky wore.

Kavinsky laughed and tossed him a can of cheap beer that he downed as quick as possible. Liquid courage was something he had never needed, but the buzz drowned out the images of red that stained his brain almost every hour of both his waking and sleeping life. And as Kavinsky turned his car around to pull up beside him at the light, the red faded.

He focused on the light above them. On the thrumming of his veins. On the black pavement before them. On the gear shift. On the gas pedal. On the pure adrenaline.

The light changed. 

It was over too fast, and not fast enough. Ronan's BMW roared to the next light and reached it mere fractions of a second before Kavinsky's shitty import. The victory wasn't hollow, like nearly everything else was in what remained of his life. It felt like power. Like peace.

After the race, the two boys parked at an empty strip mall where all the stores were closed, save for the Supercuts at the end of the row. Kavinsky popped something small in his mouth as he exited his car and leaned against it. Ronan followed suit, and they remained standing across from each other for a long moment in silence. 

Kavinsky was leering at him, from his shaved head to his boots and back again.

Ronan was watching the way the street light reflected against the very illegally tinted window of Kavinsky's stupid car. It kept his eyes away from the other boy, keeping him purely in his peripheral vision, where he was safe.

"You want some plausible deniability?" Kavinsky laughed, breaking the quiet and shaking a bottle of pills at him. 

Ronan scoffed in answer, scoffed again as Kavinsky sauntered forward the three steps that separated them, and pressed him even harder against his car.

**Author's Note:**

> What happens next? Use your imagination~!


End file.
